Your boyfriend, Ronnie Cripe, left this note for you in the parking lot:
Sorry, I don’t have any more information. And for the record, I’m tired of being expected to carry messages for you people. From now on, if you want to hear from Ronnie, you’ll have to call him up yourselves.
Oh man, I googled Ronnie Cripe and came up with a few sites. He is a member of a photography journal. He was a paulbearer for Bobby Price’s funeral. The best one is that he is a true Melanie Griffith fan, according to his posts on Melaniegriffith.com. Here is a post that Ronnie Cripe placed:
“melanie i think you’re so beautiful and your causes and site are awesome.what are you doing for the environment?do you know martin sheen?he’s awesome.i met him last year.your site is beautiful.keep it up.”
Keep up the good work, Ronnie. I will give you an autographed picture, and, yes, I am doing well.
ronnie can fuck off. i’m not giving him my autograph. that little gnome stabbed my horse.
Hey, thanks for Googling Ronnie, Peter. I was going to do it but I ran out of time. I think he’s very nice, though. Seems supportive and all that.
Once I was caught in a burning office building. As the flames climbed story by story towards my floor, I saw Ronnie Cripe fly by on his anti-gravity Surfboard of Power. He laughed and fell off his board. Later the fire department put out the blaze and took us both to the hospital.
Ronnie had cracked ribs and a mild concussion. I had some light smoke and water damage, so they discharged me first. I was able to pay Ronnie a brief visit and stab him for laughing at me.
“Hey!” cried Ronnie. “I already fell off my Surfboard of Power. Isn’t that punishment enough?”
“Yes,” I said, and raised my knife again.